


Stages of a marriage

by songforeverystory



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: An I oop, F/F, Sex, Shopping, first smut, happy birthday fixy, i was drunk when i edited this, who knows if it makes any sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songforeverystory/pseuds/songforeverystory
Summary: Eve blames a Google search a decade ago for the breakdown of her marriage.Villanelle helps her to feel sexy again.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 10
Kudos: 379





	Stages of a marriage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fixy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fixy/gifts).



> Fixy asked for angst for her birthday, so she's getting angst.
> 
> Hahahaha. Just joking.
> 
> Happy birthday, darling.
> 
> (Everyone go and love on her, she's the greatest)

Eve was her own undoing, partial to self-sabotage but unwilling to accept the fact. Instead, she blamed a google search from a decade ago for the breakdown of her marriage.

She had never been disillusioned or under the impression that marriage would be utter bliss, but she hadn’t expected it to be such hard work either.

She had resisted Niko’s advances from the outset. He wasn’t her first serious boyfriend and she’d entered their courtship rather bitter and slightly jaded.

Maybe she had always been that way, she couldn’t quite recall. She was 30 when they had met and she had been living and working in the UK for a few years for some pretty big-shot research companies, working her way up to sort-of management.

She was a career woman, and maybe it was that distinction that made her so terrible at anything else.

Niko was good and their marriage was mostly good. They had had a few bumps in the road that they had overcome, but not in an entirely healthy way.

Usually, they would fight, and Niko would shout and then Niko would run off and when he returned a few days later he would apologise.

They never talked about anything.

It had been thoughtless and during a moment of blind rage that she had furiously typed ‘stages of a marriage’ and ‘I don’t love my husband anymore’ into the search bar on their shared computer five years into their marriage.

It was her worst fear ultimately, that things would sour quickly for her and that she would be trapped.

And sure enough.

Everything Niko did she had come to find annoying and tedious and just… infuriating. She was struggling to think of a single reason as to why she had married him at all.

He was a good man.

But she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about him that was _good._

Five years into their marriage—a decade ago—Niko had trawled through their search history, sifted through his own porn and recipes for Grochówka and Barszcz czerwony, two of her least favourite Polish dishes, and stumbled across the articles.

He had stewed on them for a few weeks and had dropped them on her like a ton of bricks during their next fight.

She hadn’t tried to make excuses or tried to defend herself, she had simply shrugged her shoulders and cried.

He had held her close and apologised, _he_ had apologised, and they had vowed to work on things.

And they had, in the sense that Eve made a conscious effort to overlook the fact that they were wholly incompatible.

They had a nice life and she couldn’t bear to leave him, to break his heart when he loved her with all of his.

She knew that it was inevitable because she had read all about it, but she had decided to give him time to accept the fact too.

That was ten years ago.

It had been 47 days, give or take a couple since their last fight. It was a struggle to pinpoint exactly where their fights started and ended, so much bubbling beneath the surface, building for weeks and weeks until something petty caused it to erupt.

Like Eve being late home from work and forgetting that it was the bridge club’s Christmas party.

She called that petty.

In her defence, she wasn’t sure Niko had even mentioned it to her, or if he had even uttered a word to her at all in the last 47 days.

She had cast a quick glance towards the calendar when she had returned home to an empty house, filled with short-term relief that he wasn’t home and less short-term dread because she shouldn’t be either, and would most definitely hear about it whenever he stumbled drunk through the front door.

She figured she had time, kicked off her heels and shot him a quick apology text explaining that something had cropped up at work. She wished him a good evening and poured herself a glass of wine.

Thirty minutes later he had barrelled through the front door, mumbling beneath his breath. He had sneered at her, his off-white, tea-stained teeth biting together as he spat out insult after insult, accusation after accusation.

Saliva droplets collected in his moustache and she watched as he wiped them away with the back of his hand when he was forced to take huge, heaving breaths in order to continue speaking. He looked at her, exasperated, and on the verge of tears and shrugged his shoulders.

This was it, she thought.

It was happening.

She was overcome with emotion, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but out of relief more than anything else.

She looked down at the ground when the eye contact became unbearable, shame blossoming from deep within her that she had made him fall apart like this and all because she just couldn’t be a good wife.

She had tried, she had tried to accept her fate and love him with everything, but ultimately she was too selfish.

“EVE.” Niko bellowed, her head shooting up to look at him again.

He laughed then, suddenly. Laughed and laughed and laughed out of frustration and perhaps disbelief that she had grown so indifferent and carefree.

It was silly of her to have wasted so much time.

“I’m sorry.” Eve sighed, reaching for him, waiting for him to retract his hand and exhaling sadly when he didn’t.

Selfishly, she had to make it worse somehow. She had to make him hate her.

“You didn’t remind me.”

She watched him seethe over that, his jaw tightening, eyes narrowing. He watched her for longer than was comfortable and then let it go.

He always let it go.

She wished that he wouldn’t let it go.

She dreamed of him not letting it go for once.

He sat beside her, held her hand in both of his and sighed. “You need help, Eve.”

That caught her attention.

“You need to start taking _care_ of yourself. How can I ask you to respect the marriage, the vows that we made, when you can’t even respect yourself?” he asked.

She was surprised by it. So surprised that excessive blinking caused tears to slide down her cheeks.

She scoffed, looked at him with surprise, waiting for him to laugh and tell her that he was joking.

“What?”

She gulped.

He looked at her, sadness in his eyes, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.

“You just… you don’t _try_ anymore, with anything. Of course, things aren’t _exciting_ anymore, you walk around in rags Eve, you don’t make any effort. We can get you help with that.”

She was infuriated all of a sudden, pulling away from him, standing up, looking down on him for once.

“I still love you, of course, but I want to be _in love_ with you, Eve. I want to look at you and I want to want to tear your clothes off. God, I want to be close to you again.”

He regarded her with sympathy, and nothing irked her more. He reached for her hips, pulled her closer to him and smoothed his hands disapprovingly over the clothes that she had draped over herself that morning.

“God, I love you… I want to know how I can make this work for you.”

She shook her head.

“Pack your shit and get out.”

It was a demand, she looked away from him, her own jaw tightening.

She wasn’t violent but feared the anger bubbling away inside of her could turn her.

He huffed, stood up, looking down at her again.

“Okay, I’ll give you time to sort yourself out.”

Still, he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this was it.

She had reached breaking point a long time ago and any patience she had, had for him reaching his had just dissipated.

She didn’t look at him as he ascended the stairs to get his stuff.

She didn’t know where he would stay. Probably with one of their friends.

She collapsed back down onto the couch and gulped down the glass of wine. She was wound up, couldn’t believe the audacity. It surely didn’t boil down to sex with them, and it surely didn’t matter so much to him what she wore.

She was a practical dresser. She dressed for the warm and for the cold and for comfort over style.

But she _was_ stylish.

She dressed her age.

She wore age-appropriate clothes.

Suddenly she was reminded about the staff room jokes that had circulated a while back about him and Gemma.

Gemma with the big boobs and the too-tight dresses.

Gemma with the annoying voice and the unsubtle seduction of her husband.

Niko probably wanted her to be more like Gemma.

Well, fuck Niko.

-

She had always imagined that she would be the one to leave the house, but here they were.

It had been days without word from him directly, but he had somewhat communicated with her through his parents who had called her and told her that he was _absolutely distraught_ about the whole thing.

She found her patience dwindling with them too, found herself apologising for breaking their son’s heart just to get them off of the phone.

She was sorry, to an extent, but she was furious about what he had said.

She had thought about that and little else since.

She had found herself scrutinizing herself in the mirror for hours on end, trying on all of her clothes.

She wanted to _feel_ sexy, just to discredit everything that he had said.

She did have respect for herself and she did take care of herself.

She chose to overlook the fact that when she stepped under the shower’s spray on Friday night to shave her body entirely, she couldn’t recall the last time she had preened herself so purposefully.

It was all for good reason because she had made an appointment.

It wasn’t for him, but for herself.

She had heard all about the Selfridges personal shoppers from the women at work.

Practical, no-obligation shopping where you were treated like royalty with champagne and a magazine whilst someone else found clothes for you to wear.

Clothes that would look great on you.

Clothes that would suggest that you take great care of yourself.

She couldn’t lose.

She was going to splurge, she had told herself.

The next time she saw Niko, she wanted to look hot as hell and the next time she saw Niko would be when they went to file for divorce.

She felt self-conscious when she set about finding an outfit to wear to the appointment.

First impressions counted and no doubt the women would judge her and talk about her after she left.

Especially if she left empty-handed.

Undoubtedly the nicest outfit she owned was the black Stella McCartney suit she sometimes had to wear for work. She had owned it for over 7 years and wore it any time she was meeting anyone important. It seemed like a pretty important occasion to wear it.

Pulling it out of the closet, she admired it and nodded, dressing but swapping out the white button-up shirt for a simple white cotton t-shirt. She wanted to come across a little more youthful and a little more clued up about fashion.

She didn’t know if it worked, but she shrugged and headed out the door.

She felt both nervous and excited simultaneously. She eagerly awaited the outcome but dreaded the part where she had to try on clothes and likely strip down to her underwear in front of a total stranger.

She took the bus into the city, getting off right outside of the store.

Ironic that she would travel by bus, sitting on a seat that was slightly wet and smelled like wee, only to go and drop thousands of pounds worth of savings on designer clothes that she didn’t know how to wear.

She took the escalator to the second floor and followed signs for personal shopping. A woman sat behind the reception desk, twirling inelegantly around in her chair.

It was hardly what she had expected.

She blinked a few times, tapped her hand against the desk and the woman stopped.

She took in Eve’s appearance, admired her from head to toe and hummed. “Are you here to see Villanelle?”

Her eyebrow was quirked up, the corner of her mouth twitched up into a smirk of some sort.

“Um… not exactly,” Eve rushed out as the woman lifted her phone to her ear. “I have an appointment with James.”

The woman waved a hand vaguely in her direction, dismissing her with a shrug. “I think… forgive me, but I think Villanelle will want to see _you.”_

Eve was beyond confused, leaning forward to read the woman’s nametag.

“Look, Elena, I don’t know who Villanelle is.”

The woman smirked at her, shrugged again, lifted her finger up to pause Eve when the person picked up the phone at the other end.

“James, send Villanelle out, her appointment is here.”

Eve looked on, shaking her head profusely, regarding the woman with utter disbelief.

It was unprofessional, she thought.

“I have an appointment with James.”

Elena tapped away on the computer keys and turned the screen towards her. “Eve Polastri, appointment with Villanelle at 11 o'clock.”

Eve’s shoulders sagged and she conceded with a shrug.

She had no idea what was going on but assumed that James was otherwise engaged perhaps.

It didn’t explain the smirk on the receptionist’s face, or why she kept looking between Eve and the door, but she began to piece things together when it did finally open.

“Elena, I don’t have an 11 o’-“ The woman paused. “Oh, hi.”

Her eyes raked over Eve slowly, her mouth twitching up into a grin that mirrored Elena’s. Eve played with her hands, looked between the two women nervously as Villanelle continued to admire her.

The receptionist couldn’t stop smiling either, biting down into her lower lip.

“Thank you so much, El,” Villanelle said, offering the woman an affectionate pat on the head before turning her attention back to Eve. “Would you like to come through?”

Her voice had dropped lower, the thick Russian accent stumbling slightly over the words, but in a way that sent a jolt down between Eve’s thighs.

This was ridiculous.

She tried to pull herself together, standing up straighter, letting out a long sigh and praying that the red tinge on her cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.

“Sure.” she agreed, sliding by the woman who held the door open for her.

“Have fun, V.” the receptionist called after them.

“My name is Villanelle and I will be looking after you today,” the woman explained when she fell into step beside her. “Can I get you anything. Tea? Coffee? _Champagne?_ ”

Eve laughed nervously, feeling seen. Feeling the woman looking at her, taking in every inch of her. “Um, can I have some water?” she asked hopefully, realising that her mouth had gone completely dry at some point in the last thirty seconds.

Villanelle pouted in disapproval but offered a curt nod of her head. 

Eve was escorted to her own private suite. It was luxurious and she felt entirely out of place. Complete with armchairs, a fitting area and more floor-to-ceiling mirrors than she could count.

She realised that she would likely have to strip off in front of this woman which made her heart race nervously in her chest.

“Take a seat, I will be right back.” Villanelle smiled, waiting for Eve to sit down before rushing off to get her a bottle of water.

It was probably the most bougie bottle of water she had ever seen, Villanelle giving her the option between still and sparkling and pouring it out into a glass for her.

Eve gulped down half of it immediately, eyes not leaving Villanelle the whole time.

“What is it you are looking for?”

Eve was stunned for a second.

“Out of your appointment,” Villanelle clarified, a smirk making its way back onto her face when she observed Eve’s obvious nervousness. “What are you hoping to get out of it? Is there a specific event you would like me to style you for? Are you shopping more generally?”

Eve licked over her lips and shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m meeting with my husband to discuss our divorce, I need an outfit for it.”

It was brutal honesty and it caused a smirk to take over Villanelle’s face again.

“Okay.” The woman nodded, looked around.

“Well, I have a few things in mind. Feel free to wait here… or you can shop with me if you prefer?”

It was hopeful, Eve wasn’t dumb.

Villanelle looked her over once again, disappearing into herself for a second and almost failing to notice that Eve had stood up.

“Lead the way.”

They walked by the receptionist once again, Eve daring to cast a glance back in her direction. The woman was obviously pleased with herself, Eve frowning.

“What’s up with the receptionist?”

It was mostly an attempt to make conversation, but she was curious as to what exactly had gone on in the last five minutes.

Villanelle looked behind them at Elena too. “Oh,” Another smirk. “She knows that you are my type.”

Eve stopped dead in her tracks, cheeks heating up again.

The woman was so blasé, so obvious, so confident, so _unprofessional._

She looked down at herself in disbelief, then back at Villanelle.

_So young._

“Oh.”

Villanelle smiled at her. It was genuine and somewhat reassuring, and altogether rather hopeful.

“Well…” Eve started, looking around at the endless racks of clothes. “Where do we start?”

“That all depends on the message that you’re trying to send.”

Eve thought about it for a second. “I want him to know that I’m still sexy, even if he doesn’t think that I am.”

She heard the woman gasp.

“Your husband does not think that you are sexy? Is he blind? Or just stupid?”

Eve laughed.

“You are very sweet.”

Villanelle’s eyes darkened and she shrugged.

Perhaps not so sweet.

“It doesn’t really look like you need a stylist, you know what looks good on you,” Villanelle told her, looking her over again. “but I’m thinking we should stick to the suit theme as it is for legal things?”

Eve nodded and trailed after the woman who poured over suits, mumbled dissatisfied under her breath and groaned when she couldn’t find what it was she was looking for.

“We have the _perfect_ outfit for you,” she complained, looking Eve over once she had located it and smiling smugly. “This will look amazing on you.”

Eve had imagined that she would wear black, but the suit was pristine white.

“It is Stella McCartney, like the one that you are wearing. Autumn/Winter 2019 ready-to-wear collection.”

Eve reached out, ran her fingers down the sleeve of the tuxedo jacket.

She smirked, nodded. “Let’s try it.”

“You will love it,” Villanelle assured her. “Is there anything else that you would like to try on?” the woman asked, pulling the suit for Eve in the right size just by looking at her.

Eve wandered around, reaching out and touching delicate fabrics, imagining draping _them_ across her body, rather than the rags she owned, as Niko had put it.

She knew without a doubt that she would feel sexy in any of it.

Eve ran her fingers over a monochrome Roland Mouret Bartlow dress. She liked it because of the halter neck, looking back at Villanelle for approval.

The woman blinked slowly at her, mouth slightly open, a pleased gasp leaving her lips. “You have to try it on.”

Eve nodded, smiled and let Villanelle find her size.

Villanelle pulled a few more dresses for her, each more revealing than the last but still tasteful. Eve doubted that she would buy a single one of them, but at this point, she decided that she wanted to humour the young woman.

It had been years since anyone had paid her any real attention, and she found herself seeking out Villanelle’s approval far more than she had ever sought out Niko’s.

That’s why, after finding heels and accessories to complement her outfits, she asked about lingerie.

Villanelle looked as though she was about to self-combust, blowing air out of her cheeks in a way that wasn’t subtle at all.

She was flustered and Eve liked it, smiling almost innocently at her.

After an hour’s worth of shopping, they were back in the suite. Villanelle organised the outfits on the rail and suggested that she try on the suit first.

“Where’s the shirt?” Eve asked curiously as she went to lift it off of the rail to take it with her behind the curtain.

Villanelle raised her eyebrow and smirked. Eve didn’t need her to say anything else and disappeared behind the curtain to change.

She was sceptical about wearing it without a shirt, but once she had slid into it, any doubt she had melted away.

The cut complimented her figure perfectly. She looked smart but sexy at the same time and she knew it was the perfect outfit to wear whilst meeting Niko.

She smoothed her fingers down the lapels of the jacket until fingertips met flush, bare skin, smiling to herself and deciding that she would show Villanelle.

The woman was sat in one of the armchairs when she appeared from behind the curtain. She drank in the sight of her once again and smiled.

“Do you like it?”

Eve nodded. “I love it.”

Villanelle sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “You look… very sexy.”

Eve smiled, unable to stop her cheeks from burning up again.

“You think so?”

Villanelle tilted her head onto her shoulder, looked her up and down agonisingly slow and nodded. “I do.”

Eve exhaled, smiling. “Well, thanks,” she nodded, smoothing down the material and looking around so that she could avoid eye contact with the woman. “I’ll… um, I’ll change.” she nodded towards the rack of clothes, reaching for the next outfit that Villanelle had put together for her.

She changed into it, ran her hands over her body and went to show Villanelle.

She felt sexy, and she liked feeling like Villanelle found her sexy too.

The woman was young and attractive, and despite the fact that she hadn’t dabbled with women since college, she found herself drawn to her.

It was her confidence, probably. It was sexy.

Each time she revealed herself to the young woman, although she tried to remain professional, she sunk deeper into her chair and groaned and allowed her jaw to fall open slightly more each time.

She was full of compliments, charming.

Eve blushed each time but grew in confidence simultaneously.

She started showing off, turning around, allowing Villanelle to ogle her from all angles.

And then there was _the_ dress.

The Roland Mouret dress.

Villanelle had hung it on the rail for her to try on last.

It was no accident, Eve realising that it was the hardest of all of them for her to get into, and the only one that _really_ required her to be braless.

She licked over her lips as she admired it on the rail, looking over her shoulder at Villanelle and watching the woman check out her ass shamelessly for a second.

She turned around and smiled at her, lowered her voice and whispered. “I’ll be right back”.

Villanelle nodded, adjusted herself in her seat, licked over her lips and Eve disappeared back behind the curtain.

She didn’t know whether she ought to struggle on purpose. She _would_ be able to get the dress on, but not without effort and wasn’t the whole point of this experience to let someone else make the effort to make _her_ look good?

And feel good? Technically?

Would she?

Would she really?

She peeled the Victoria Beckham ruffled midi dress away from her body and touched the Roland Mouret dress again.

She knew Villanelle would lose her mind seeing her in it, pulling it away from the hanger and undoing the zipper.

It slid easily over her skin but fit snuggly.

It was the tightest fit so far.

She gasped, watching it take shape on her body, hugging her in all of the right places.

She looked good if she did say so herself.

She reached behind herself and set about dragging up the zipper. It was easier than she had hoped and so she found herself at a crossroads.

She had to actually make a choice.

Did she want Villanelle or not?

She didn’t allow herself to think too much about it and opted to call out for her. “Villanelle?”

The woman must have been lying in wait, hopeful that this would happen because she slid behind the curtain with her in seconds, surveying her body in the mirror.

“Shit.”

Eve smirked.

She had left her bra on, on purpose. A true fashion crime that she hoped that Villanelle might rectify.

The woman overlooked it for a moment, standing behind her, checking her out in the mirror.

“Can you help me?” Eve asked hopefully, innocently, even though her thoughts were far from innocent.

“With what?” Villanelle dared to ask.

Eve’s cheeks burned. “Well… dressing… and then undressing?”

Villanelle’s eyebrows raised.

“This request is a little above my job requirements.” the woman teased.

Eve laughed. “And yet I’m certain you’ll oblige.”

Villanelle scoffed, ran her fingertips down Eve’s back until she reached the zipper, making her shiver.

“You are right,” Villanelle smirked. “I don’t usually go above and beyond for my customers; my boss will be pleased.”

Eve smiled encouragingly at her in the mirror, her eyes not leaving Villanelle’s for a second as she reached for the clasp of her bra and peeled it away from her body.

She held the front of her dress protectively and nodded for Villanelle to do the zipper.

The woman dragged it upwards, the dress clinging to her perfectly.

Eve let out a shaky breath, eyes leaving Villanelle’s for a second so that she could admire herself, Villanelle’s dropping at the same time.

“It looks perfect on you, you look perfect.” the young woman said without thought.

Eve smiled, nodded her head in agreement, eyes flicking up to meet Villanelle’s again.

The woman’s hands moved from the base of her neck, sliding down her sides, caressing the fabric that hugged her tightly, coming to a stop when she was holding her hips.

“You are very sexy, Eve.”

Eve licked over her lips, smiling softly.

“So are you.”

It was all the encouragement Villanelle needed, the woman blowing out a relieved sigh and leaning in closer to her.

She worked slowly, giving Eve time and space to change her mind.

Eve wasn’t going to change her mind though and pressed herself back against the woman slightly.

Soft, supple lips landed on her neck, kissed gently.

Eve watched through the mirror, watched as the hand on her hip reached around her stomach to pull her flush against her.

Lips nipped and sucked and kissed a path across her shoulder, the young woman biting down gently into her skin.

Eve let out a shaky breath, smirked at the woman.

It felt hard to breathe all of a sudden, hot and stuffy and _sexy._

She turned her head back to look at Villanelle directly, one of her hands covering Villanelle’s on her stomach, the other reaching up to caress her cheek and drag her down into a real kiss.

It happened in a flash. Villanelle turning Eve in her arms and pushing her back against the mirror with a thud.

The force of it knocked the air out of her lungs and forced a gasp out of her throat.

Lips pressed insistently against hers, Villanelle’s lips sliding open, allowing Eve’s tongue to press against her own.

One of her hands rested against Villanelle’s shoulder, the other holding Villanelle’s hand against her hip. She didn’t want the woman to stop touching her.

Villanelle’s free hand lifted up into Eve’s hair, prying out the hair tie and shaking out her curls.

“I love your hair.” she panted out quickly, pressing their lips together again in a desperate kiss.

“I want to—" Eve started, hushing when Villanelle kissed her harder.

“No, me first” the woman insisted, pulling Eve away from the mirror enough to find the zipper again, dragging it down over the curve of her ass, pushing the material back down her body.

Eve was almost immediately exposed and recoiled some out of habit, tried to reach her hands up to cover herself but Villanelle grabbed at both of her hands, forcing her back against the mirror.

She gasped, kissed the younger woman back harshly, bit down into her lower lip in an effort to regain control of her hands. Villanelle pressed them against the mirror, held them both with one of her own and moved her kisses down to her chest.

Villanelle grabbed harshly at one of her tits, circling her tongue around her nipple, grazing her teeth against it.

Eve struggled desperately against the grip on her wrists, wanting to bury her fingers in Villanelle’s hair and push her downwards, groaning when Villanelle held her tighter.

“Please,” Eve begged, looking down at the woman with wide, desperate eyes.

Villanelle conceded, turned her attention to Eve’s other breast and let go of her hands.

Eve’s fingers stroked through long blonde hair, pulling downwards but Villanelle remained with her lips wrapped around Eve’s nipple defiantly, staring up at her with a smirk.

“Impatient.” she teased, and Eve narrowed her eyes on her.

“Shut up.”

Villanelle continued her path down Eve’s body, kissing, biting, licking, sucking.

Eve was losing her patience, reaching down to ease the material over her hips, the dress collecting at her feet and she kicked it away from her. She pushed down on the top of Villanelle’s head with a groan, watching the woman’s ass sticking out more and more as she continued her way down her body.

“Don’t tease.” Eve pleaded, a whimper leaving her lips as she tried desperately to get Villanelle to where she needed her the most.

The woman looked up at her, eyes wide, pupils blown. She dragged her nails across Eve’s skin until they met her underwear, tugging them down quickly, pushing them off of her.

Eve gasped, pushed Villanelle away for a second, the woman forced to hold onto her hips again to steady herself.

“Wait,” Eve panted, turning them around so that she was facing the mirror. She pushed Villanelle to her knees and chuckled breathlessly. “I want to watch.”

Villanelle attached her lips to Eve’s clit without warning, nails digging into Eve’s ass.

Eve wished for a moment for the support that the mirror had offered, but when she observed Villanelle through the mirror, she let out another breathless whimper.

“Fuck.”

Villanelle licked greedily through her folds and attached her lips to Eve’s clit again, sucking on it, flicking her tongue over it.

Eve whined, fingers pushing through the blonde locks, gathering her hair up in her hands and tugging harshly.

Eve was soaked, evidenced by the fact that she had covered Villanelle’s chin already. The younger woman managed a smirk, flicking her tongue teasingly against Eve’s clit but not consistently, there was no rhythm and so Eve frustratedly closed her eyes and rolled her hips against the woman’s face, over and over in attempts to create her own rhythm.

Villanelle allowed it for a few moments, tongue stuck out, flicking obediently over her clit with every thrust of Eve’s hips.

Eve rolled her hips more insistently until she was all but grinding down against the woman’s face, Villanelle moaning against her core, pushing her closer and closer and closer—

Villanelle pulled away.

Eve gasped, eyes shooting open, looking down at the woman again, another whine escaping from the back of her throat.

Villanelle reached around with one of her hands to nudge Eve’s thighs further apart, snaking her hand up between her thighs, slipping through her soaked folds.

Eve gasped and her head fell back. When it was met with no support, she was forced to look down at the woman again, watch her smirk up at her as she pressed a finger up against her entrance.

Eve cried out, tried to angle her hips just so that she could sink down onto it. Villanelle rubbed over her entrance, teasing.

“Villanelle” Eve whined. “If you don’t touch me, you won’t get a turn”.

It was an empty threat, perhaps.

Eve wanted her, wanted to get on her knees and please her in return.

“I am touching you” Villanelle argued, attaching her lips to Eve’s clit again, curling her finger up into her without warning.

Eve’s legs almost gave out, Villanelle struggling to support her weight as she curled her finger into her over and over, sliding another in alongside it and drawing short, sharp moans out of the older woman.

Eve’s eyes closed gently again, tugging at Villanelle’s hair, pressing herself down against the woman’s mouth over and over.

She was getting closer, reaching forward to press her palm against the mirror, supporting herself the best she could as she started to grind down against the woman’s face.

Slender fingers pushed in and pulled out of her, curling up against that one spot that made her forget how to breathe.

Gasping breaths and whispered, incoherent profanity left her lips. She called down to ‘Vill’, repeating her name like a mantra, begging.

She was so needy, so desperate, rolling her hips against the woman who flicked her tongue insistently against her clit and curled her fingers into her quickly.

Eve moaned, biting down into her lower lip to quieten herself and tasting copper. She had drawn blood in a desperate attempt to keep herself from moaning out loudly and alerting anyone outside of the confines of her suite.

“Don’t stop, please, I’m going to—”

Villanelle didn’t let up, sucking her clit between her lips and flicking against it more insistently with her tongue, fingers working quickly inside of her to the point that she was hardly retracting them anymore.

A high pitch cry left Eve’s lips, completely unrestrained.

It took over her whole body, her pussy clenching around the woman’s fingers.

She gasped, tugged at Villanelle’s hair, held her in place.

She bit down into her lip again, breathless as Villanelle slowed down her fingers and her tongue, smirking up at her, attempting to clean up the mess she had made between Eve’s thighs.

Eve shook her head, a pleased sigh leaving her lips. Her legs shook and she allowed herself to gracefully fall to the floor, laying there, panting, Villanelle regarded her with a quirked eyebrow, eyes trailing down Eve’s body as she came down from her orgasm.

Eve reached for her again, summoned her with a ‘come hither’ motion.

Villanelle teased her, jokingly pointing at herself as if to ask “Who? Me?”

Eve sighed. “Take off your pants.”

Villanelle stood, her own legs shaking slightly as she quickly unbuttoned her tapered trousers, pushing them down her thighs along with her underwear, kicking them off.

Eve licked over her lips as she got a sneak peek of the woman’s glistening pussy.

“Come here,” she said, patting her chest, still breathless from her own orgasm.

Villanelle straddled her waist, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips again.

Eve reciprocated but frowned into it, reaching for her hips and tugging upwards.

Villanelle went easily this time, climbing her body until her glistening centre hovered just over Eve’s face.

Eve was impatient, wrapped her arms around Villanelle’s thighs and pulled her flush against her.

Her tongue stroked through Villanelle’s folds, mirroring the woman’s actions.

It had been such a long time since she had touched another woman and she moaned at her taste, pulled her closer, making her sit down on her face.

“Fuck.” Villanelle groaned, leaning forward to hold onto the armchair. It gave Eve a great view of her tits but restricted her view of the woman’s face.

She reached a hand up to palm her breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

Villanelle gasped and leaned back, moaning and rolling her hips against Eve’s face.

“I love these.” Eve groaned, pulling away for just a second before flicking her tongue against her clit, devouring her.

Villanelle whined and Eve could feel her heart racing in her chest beneath her hand.

“Keep going.” Villanelle pleaded, Eve smirking against her centre and considering teasing her back, but they were short on time and as much as she wanted to drag this out, savour every moment, every touch, every taste, she wanted to hear Villanelle’s needy, breathless moans more.

“Oh, Eve, please.” Villanelle cried.

Eve sucked harshly on her clit, grazing her teeth against it, Villanelle bucking against her face.

“ _Oh.”_ Villanelle stilled, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans, the other hand clinging to the arm of the chair behind her.

Eve smiled, pleased with herself, stroking her tongue back through Villanelle’s folds, taking a moment to enjoy her.

Villanelle slid down her body, wetness coating Eve’s chest and her stomach, Villanelle’s needy lips finding Eve’s again.

Eve kissed her back for a moment before turning her head to the side to check the time, sighing sadly, but smiling when lips landed on her cheek.

“I suppose you better check me out.” She smiled, fingertips trailing up and down Villanelle’s spine.

“Haven’t I done enough of that? For one day?”

Eve smirked, pressed her lips against Villanelle’s once more before gently nudging her away.

“I am glad you are divorcing your husband, you are wasted on men,” Villanelle told her as she redressed in her own clothes.

Eve laughed, turning around to look at her. “You think?”

Villanelle nodded, propping herself up on her elbow.

“This was fun,” Eve told her, and she meant every word. It had been exactly what she had needed. “All of it.”

Villanelle smirked. “It was very fun. Can I see you again?”

Eve’s eyes widened in surprise.

She hadn’t really considered anything post-orgasm.

“Oh.” She blushed again like they weren’t past blushing. She thought about it for a second and offered a shy nod. “Sure.”

Villanelle’s face broke out into a shit-eating grin and she clambered up off of the floor to redress too.

“Now I have to awkwardly ask if there’s anything that you’d like to keep.”

Eve laughed. “I’m taking the Stella McCartney suit, and the underwear, and I guess I should probably buy that now.” She pointed towards the dress lying crumpled in a pile on the floor.

Eve breathed out softly, walked towards Villanelle, smoothing out her hair and leaning in for another, softer kiss.

They got themselves together and made sure that they were both presentable before walking out together, Elena turning to look at them with a smirk.

“Did you find everything that you were looking for?” She asked, looking between them both.

Eve smiled politely, looked towards Villanelle and nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat on twitter -- @song4everystory


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